I know kids these days don’t know what Facebook is or they roll their eyes and say it is SO passé. But I still use it as it’s been a part of my life since 2007 – woah, 9 years!- and I’ve stuck with every layout change that they made, specially in the first five years before they kind of decided to stick with the timeline format.
Of course, the usage of my Facebook greatly changed throughout the years. I was much younger and more naive 9 years ago and therefore the posts were age appropriate. I have since, as might be expected, deleted quite a few but all in all my posts were/are alright.
Around 2010 (2011?), my Mom joined Facebook and as many others, I dreaded adding her to MY Facebook. Gosh, these are my private thoughts I share on the internet with my friends, not my MOM! What should I do? Add her or block her? After a week of listening to her whining that we are truly not friends if we are not Facebook friends I decided to add her.
My Facebook posts have changed since. I think twice about what I write or think twice about who am I arguing with about a certain hot issue (btw, never get into arguments on Facebook, they are a complete waste of time and pointless!).
I guess it is safe to say that since my Mom joined Facebook, I think twice about what I say or do because I do not want her to see her daughter act like an idiot or say something stupid. Not that I do that often, but it happens. It happens to all of us and we should all be happy we have our Moms as Facebook friends- internet is not a public diary and we don’t want them to find out every detail of our lives. Or do we?
A friend of mine, let’s call him Dave, has been really pissing me off lately (can I say piss off on WordPress?)
Anyway, everytime we hang out with him and a bunch of friends he wants the guys and the women to hang out separately. In the same house, just different rooms. And if we play games, god forbid women should play. Because not that women are not capable of playing along, but women don’t take the games seriously enough….. which yeah, it’s just a game, Dave and just because you win at it it doesn’t make you somehow a winner in real life. Akhem.
In addition to his segregated time spending between sexes he also has a man cave. Two men caves, technically. One glorious man room filled with his workout equipment, comicbooks and pheromone-based scents (I’m guessing) and his garage crammed with motorcycles which reeks of testosterone, or whatever that scent is. The rest of the house he is in is mostly decorated by his fiancee, Lindsey.
Now, every couple has their vibe but here’s what I’ll tell you about men caves and men only time.
- Men caves shouldn’t exist- women should compromise and not take over the whole damn house and decorate it upon her liking, it’s that simple. You’re a couple, you live together, you share things. Both parties should compromise.
- Girls time/guys nights- they are ok every once in awhile but the reality is- if you need some time away from your spouse/bf/gf, then something isn’t right. Because I can tell you that after I come home from work at cca. 6pm and I only get to see David for a couple of hours before we both hit the hay exhausted, I don’t have any desire to spend even LESS time with him. If anything, because I only see him for those few hours I actually want to see him MORE.
So this whole men only, girls only stupidity needs to stop. If we want men and women to have 50/50 relationships, have them work as partners, then compromises have to be made.
Because guess what, your partner is your team.
You both live in the house. You can both ride the motorcycle. You can both read comic books. You can both BBQ in the back. You can both fix the sink together. You can both wear boots and know how to use a jack. You can both play sports… etc. It’s common sense, Dave.
Sarasota, FL- It is bad enough our parents know what Facebook is. It is even worse that they have befriended us and have the rare access to our public internet Facebook life. Their presence means only two things- posting embarrassing comments to our photos and postings and/or them posting embarrassing photos of themselves in a public or private space.
Billy, 25, has been friends with his Dad on Facebook for more than four years now and he has unfollowed his Dad’s post feed a long time ago. “He uses humor that is very typical for his generation, you know. The pictures he takes and the ideas he shares are from Ronald Reagan times and well, he loves the Three Stooges type of humor, you know, the one with physical farce and slapstick and I just find that incredibly dumb. All the old people he knows find it hilarious but I just can’t get myself to like any of it.”
Billy does try sometimes to like his Dad’s photos. “Well, I don’t want to be the son that doesn’t like anything on his Dad’s Facebook. Just the other day I liked his ZOO photos. He went there and took selfies with the giraffes and found it hilarious when monkeys were doing it in front of him and posted a bunch of photos of it. Like, it’s not that funny but I love him anyway. So I “liked” the album but I won’t “like” anything for a while.”
Richmond, VA- Her wedding day might still be months away, but Sally Ashworth, 25, is facing harsh criticism from her family and above all, her friends who find her decision of not trying to lose weight for the grand wedding day absolutely horrendous.
“I announced the engagement a week ago,” Sally told us, “and after the initial excitement, the conversation was steered to my look and my wedding dress and how I absolutely must drop twenty pounds and get toned arms and firm belly for the wedding.” The initial revelation was first accepted with “you must be kidding” kind of response, but then it turned into a serious matter.
“I told them I thought the wedding day was about Peter and I stating our love for each other in front of God and our close friends. Since, I’ve gotten nasty text messages about how I should truly reconsider losing some weight because after all I have to look good in the wedding pictures because they last forever.”
Her close friend, Miranda Elmore, 26 was one of those friends who warned Sally of the consequences of her reckless decision-making. “She is not thinking straight,” Miranda told us when we called her to find out more. “I’m covering her back here. It’s embarrassing to have bat wings in your wedding photos. Of course, wedding is about love but everyone also memorizes how the bride looked too. Twenty years from now, she will be looking back at her wedding album and think to herself man, I looked really good and toned and nothing can top that.”
(Inspired by The Onion)
Recently, we had quite the generational battle in my family. We decided to renovate my Dad’s tiny little cottage house somewhere in Georgia. He used it for his getaways when he needed a break from life, but now, as my sister has children on her own…she wants to take them there, have them live in the wild, learn how nature works and expose them to other beautiful crude facts of life.
And so, the idea of renovating came about. Let’s turn Dad’s old, shabby cottage into a family den! I believe he hasn’t touched the inside for roughly 40 years…. the rugs were used up and damp, the walls have been crying for a layer of paint. The closets, drawers and other furniture was wobbly and almost shivered under the weight of Dad’s fishing/hunting gear and tools. For my youngest niece, walking into the place caused an immediate allergic reaction to dust. We knew it was a big undertaking, but my sister desperately wanted this. Little did we know, the easiest part would be loading up the broken things. For the fight began with things that were still sort of-kind of-just barely useful and looked terrible.
Our Dad started arguing how wasteful we were and that just because something is old and broken, it does not mean it cannot be repaired. Yada yada yada. The whole afternoon became about us, the young and wasteful generation which buys things when they break down instead of fixing them. He fought for every chair, every dresser, every drawer, every table. And I get it, I do. I am “old-school”, if you will, and all about savings things and fixing them up- but only if they still look somewhat presentable. But things that are on the verge of collapsing and possibly hurting someone? Shouldn’t we retire old furniture too? At what point do we acknowledge nothing is meant to be used forever?
Too often I find myself chained to numbers in my life. I rely on them and let them determine who I am. They tell me whether I am loser or a winner, a good person or a bad person, or if I am a failure in life.
How much money do I make? Why am I not making more? How many pounds do I weigh? How expensive was the holiday I went on? Was it expensive enough to impress other people? Does this dress look like an expensive dress? How many hours did I sleep? Why don’t I have a two car garage? How old am I? (and the inevitable- when did I get this old?)
It’s a scary thing, relying on numbers. They put me in a bad mood because there is always a goal that has to be reached. Sales numbers, performance reviews, even damn dieting is not successful unless the scale budges and shows less!
What would happen in my life if I started to ignore numbers? What if I became happy with what I am making? What if I realized I don’t need a two door garage and that the world won’t end because I do not drink 8 glasses a day like I was supposed to according to every health magazine? What if I was happy with the fact I only sold one book so far on Amazon– someone bought my book, isn’t that something?
What if I, instead, focused on helping others, or making someone’s day by actually having a conversation with them? Or baby-sitting someone’s kids so they can finally go on a romantic date after sleepless nights and dirty diapers? What if I invited that chatty old neighbor for dinner after five years of knowing her?
The world becomes so much easier when the burden of number disappears- suddenly, the focus is on others, and not on you.
Imagine watching the Oscars; everyone is dressed to the nines, looking stunning and hungry. Next up: Best supporting actor category. They read out the names, and then… they announce the winner. The actor walks on stage and shares a sob story. He kisses his Oscar. He won! The camera turns towards the other best supporting actor nominees and hey, guess what, they are also holding up their Oscars- you know, they should get an Oscar just for their nomination.
Now, how ridiculous is that?
America is turning into a nation of wussies. Everyone is being rewarded these days. For effort, not results. Just last night I saw pictures of my friends running in a 5K. And you know what was hanging around their necks? Medals. Freaking medals. They didn’t come in first, second or third. They weren’t anywhere near top 100. But they got medals. For what? For participating. It makes me vomit, dear fellow Americans.
Medals symbolize something extraordinary- extraordinary time or achievement, sometimes service to the country. They do not symbolize participation, or an effort or getting of a couch to walk a 5K. America, what are you doing? Event organizers, what are you doing? By giving out medals, albeit fake, you are devaluing the value of winners. The winners who trained hard to be the fastest. They woke up every day and trained. Trained to be better, to improve results, to be the best. Not average. The best. They woke up sore, they woke up tired and they put years in training. They sweat tears, they sweat ambition and they sweat dedication. They deserve to get something unique. Because if we stop awarding those who push the boundaries, we acknowledge average… and average will never achieve extraordinary.
The gist of karma is people acting good and getting good karma, while the slimy bastards who do bad things get worse things thrown in their face. Something like that, right?
It’s a concept. Fine. But what I am bothered about are karma perverts. I call them perverts because they distort the original concept of karma.
Karma perverts only do good things because they want good karma. Doesn’t that essentially make you a bad person? Isn’t it manipulative to do good things only to benefit from them?
Needless to say, I had a long debate with my friend who often likes to quote the “well, karma will get him” or “oh, I don’t want bad karma so I do good things.” She was quite offended I implied she is a bad person for only doing good things to benefit a more frugal outcome in the future.
Additionally, karma is seen as tool for revenge. People want to have this idea that there is a force out there who will punish all the bad people and make them suffer more.
My point, in the end, is that you shouldn’t do good because you want good karma. You should do good out of the pureness of your heart. Because you believe in it, because you mean it and you do not expect anything in return.
In 2015 (and all the other years prior), my goal is to stay a “good person”- not because I was worried about the consequences of karma, but because I generally believe you should do good and try to make this world better.
Once Thanksgiving came, Mom opened up more and we secretly played French music when Dad wasn’t home. We danced to Edith Piaf’s songs filled with struggle and bitter love; or at least that’s what the internet said they were. I helped her with our Thanksgiving ritual; browsing through old recipe books to find the perfect Turkey stuffing recipe.- Jenna Gunner
Controversy aside, Thanksgiving for me is THE day for family. THE day to stop for a second and realizing where everyone in your life is. THE day to realize what you have and what you lost. THE day to realize the changes are happening around you. THE day to be grateful.
No other country in the world has Thanksgiving. Sure, they know the “commercialized” movie version of it where we all spend hours in the kitchen, begging the turkey to turn out right and we all end up laying around with unbuttoned pants on the couch. I mean, it happens. But there’s nothing better than giving thanks for all that you have. Because every time I hear myself say all my thanks out loud, I realize how lucky I am; how much I have- and all the stuff I want to have are exactly that, wants. The needs are covered- and I should be more than grateful!
Thanks for reading my blog! Leave a comment, tell me how you feel about Thanksgiving!
P.S1: You can get my book for FREE on Amazon only on Thanksgiving!
P.S2: Gobble, gobble! 😉
Europeans always have such a hard stance on our right to bear arms. Our second amendment really bothers them, in a way. Their war-affected past has made them allegedly more “peaceful” and unable to understand the gun-loving Americans. How foolishly Americans kill each other with guns! How terrible it is to live in a society where one must carry guns to protect oneself!
But it’s almost funny… you know what is the first thing any guy (and girls too) want to do when they visit me in the glorious America? They want to go to a shooting range. They want to shoot some guns and try out different pieces of firearms. Of course, most of them can’t shot them because they are not legal residents (at least that’s how it is here in Florida)… but then again… we are in Florida and we are in the South, so sometimes they get lucky and they get to live out their manly, rugged, and loud fantasies. And guess what! Every so often, a story comes out. A story about a hidden piece of firearms that “grandpa kept” and how great it was to shoot that gun. So let’s cut the cr*p here!